I Think That's Mine
by Invisible Staircase
Summary: A mission on an alien planet and some mixed up enhancements.  Nothing America and Canada can't handle, right?


As much as he'd always said he wanted to be a wizard when he grew up, England couldn't help but reflect (for quite possibly the thousandth time this year), that this was _not_ the manner in which he'd wished it.

His parents had always had very high hopes for him, giving him such an illustrious name based upon one of the countries of the dead human home world. Ok, granted, that was a _very_ popular thing to do, but England didn't care if he wasn't the only one with the name. He wore the name the best, was most suited for it, so there.

Nothing but a Ghost Planet now, devoid of life, but England still found Earth fascinating. As a small boy he'd devoured the old out of fashion Earth stories, specifically the ones of the fantasy genre, and had decided what he'd be when he was all grown up. It didn't really fit in with the science heavy life humans lived now, but that meant nothing to a child. He'd even made plans for it.

He'd grow a long beard, wear a tall pointy hat, robes, and move about with a tall and gnarled walking stick. That was what he imagined. Well... the hat, robes, and walking stick hadn't happened. He'd gotten some impressive facial hair... but not in the form of a beard. His eyebrows had apparently volunteered to do the growing instead. It was a mess, really, his life not at all mystical or magical (even if he swore he saw pixies now and then).

_However_... he _had_ become a wizard. Or rather... a _WizarD_. Moronic capitalization aside, everyone seemed to have a different story about how the word 'wizard' had come to be applied to his job, but so it went. There wasn't anything magical at all about what he did... though he supposed the results to the untrained eye might seem so. WizarDs were engineers of the nanobio stripe. They invented tiny little machines that would enter the body, reproduce while altering cells, making the lucky recipient into something more than human.

How else could you compete against aliens, right? Their weapon tech often rivaled or was superior to that of the displaced human explorers, and it seemed like ninety percent of the alien species out there were physically superior and more deadly than humans. It was a rotten deal, the humans had gotten, through and through. Oh they were coping as well as they could... but it wasn't a comfortable life. The word comfort had nearly been stricken from the dictionary it was such an abstract concept.

With a hiss and a tiny beeping pop, the door to his lab station slid open, and England flicked his green eyes up, staring from beneath a neon pair of magnifying lenses at the man sauntering in. He let out a long suffering sigh, because hey, he always liked to show how much he hated visits from France. It hadn't been intentional, coming to hate the man named after said country. He didn't want to be bound by some old stereotype and all.

...but France was stupidly annoying, so England didn't fight the annoyance he felt every time he had to see that stupid smirky and stubbly face. France's condescending smirk in return conveyed, as ever, that the feelings shared were mutual.

"What do you want?" England asked, knowing it was just best to get to the point with France. It, _sometimes_, made the visits shorter.

France moved right up to England's side, so close their shoulders nearly touched as he leaned down to peer at what England was currently working on, as if he had every right to do so. He didn't, of course. The man was a scientist (of sorts) as well, but he worked in the reproductive sector and couldn't possibly understand England's oh so complicated work. That, and well, it couldn't be seen with the naked eye anyway.

"Are these the SpellS for the upcoming ground mission?" England wasn't sure how people had learned to covey wonky capitalization in speech so naturally, but that was a tangent for another day. The better question was why France would care about this at all.

"Why do you ask?" England quipped, ever suspicious, and France just shrugged.

"A very dear friend of mine is going on this mission, this will be his first. I would _hate_ for something to go wrong on the mission because of your ineptitude. So I came to make certain you're not making those mistakes you're so prone to making..."

Oh England would have punched the bastard right then and there... if there weren't cameras watching them. And if... he hadn't gotten quite a few warnings not to do so again by his superior. And if he wasn't facing time in solitary for his next infraction.

He took a deep breath, stood up tall, and sniffed to show how appalled he was at France's words. "Though I've no reason to tell _you_ anything, if it will get you to leave I'll happily do so. Yes, these are the last of the SpellS being prepared for the mission, and as you can see..." Haha, of course he couldn't. "Everything is perfectly in order with them. Now, if you're really worried for this friend of yours, then you'll leave now so I may finish."

France peered, squinted, where he thought the nanobiotics probably were (England rejoiced that the man was completely off the mark), then waved his hand airily and began to stroll away. "I will take you for your word, England... for your sake this better be true..."

Threat lingering in the air, England muttered some rather nasty things after the door slid shut again. Stupid... stupid... what had the Earth insult been again? Oh never mind. He looked back down at his work and paused for just a moment, looking between two of the SpellS in particular. "... now... which one was... was it... ah..."

~1~1~1~1~1~1~

America was _crazy_ excited. Finally... _finally_... his first ground mission! His first chance to go toe to toe with aliens on a planet he'd never been to before! It was yet another step in his journey to becoming the ultimate hero of the universe. He was already pretty heroic, flying attack ships in space combat, but he wanted to be a well rounded hero. Show he was more than just a fast ship and some hot gunning. If people built statues of him (which would be amazing), he didn't want them to just build a ship, ya know?

He flexed his arms, trying to see if he actually felt any different. He'd finally been given his first SpellS enhancement. Based on the role he was supposed to play in this mission (heavy front line ass kicker!), he'd been given a SpellS to enhance his physical strength. Turning to tug at the door, America was mildly disappointed to note that it wasn't ripping right off the frame like butter. Maybe the enhancement hadn't activated yet?

A different door opened, and America turned and flashed a grin to his twin bro. His little twin bro, no matter how much said twin bro insisted that America was the younger one instead. "Yo, Canada! About time bro! What took you so long?"

His brother sighed and plopped down onto a bench in the locker room they were in. The mission was scheduled to get started in about an hour, and they needed to suit up. "I swear, the stupid WizarD forgot I was even there!" His brother lamented miserably. "He even kept wandering about his lab, muttering about how late _I_ was, and how rude _I_ was being by making _him_ wait! It took forever to just get his attention."

America laughed at his brother, a bit too loud really, but still came over to give him a consoling pat on the shoulder. Yes, he honestly found it funny as hell that people managed to blank out his brother's existence, but he also cared about his bro. Maybe America couldn't control his mouth well enough to not laugh, but he did feel bad for the shit Canada went through. He gave a couple more heavy bro-pats to the shoulder. "Aww, cheer up. Just think, your own natural 'invisibility' is just gonna make your SpellS work that much more awesome!"

Canada gave out a bitter laugh, though it'd lost its edge, his brother cheering him up just a bit. "Oh yes, wonderful, eh?" Canada was also going on his first ground mission, and was part of the stealth side of the mission. While America was up top kicking as and taking names, his bro would be infiltrating, heading for the target databanks. Hey, humans were clever as hell... but it didn't hurt to 'borrow' knowledge from aliens that were maybe, for now, more advanced. America's alien pal Tony had assured him the data was worth it.

As if it was an afterthought, Canada looked at his shoulder, where America had given him a pat. "You've... gotten pretty good at moderating your enhancement already, eh? That didn't feel any different than normal."

America frowned, crossing his arms. "Uh, ya know actually, it's sort of weird. They say SpellS are supposed to take effect pretty quick... but I don't think mine is working yet. Which I'm not _surprised_... everyone knows SpellS are outdated anyway. Pfft, that's why they're called 'SpellS'. Magic doesn't exist!"

Canada stared down at his own hands... his very visible hands, frowning. "That WizarD seemed a bit disorganized, and France did say the man wasn't good at anything. I thought he'd said he was going to talk to the guy about it... but... maybe we should go back to his lab? Make certain he did the procedure right?"

Before America could answer the locker room door hissed open, the already suited form of Sweden filling the space. He looked between the two, before shaking his head. "W're l'ving e'rly... g't r'dy."

Both brothers saluted their superior officer, scrambling to get ready as the other man left to collect the rest of the team. America couldn't help but snicker. "Dude, Canada, is he _ever_ going to get his suit communicator fixed?" It was absurd that with all their tech, Sweden's suit communicator continued to malfunction, cutting in and out and sounding like a distorted mumble. _Maybe_ the strange unfixable device wouldn't be so bad... if Sweden didn't wear his combat suit and helmet almost all the time.

Canada laughed as he suited up. "I doubt it."

~1~1~1~1~1~1~

They'd landed, the teams and split up and moved to their designated coordinates. For the members of the stealth team, all they needed to do now was wait. The assault team would launch their attack soon, providing a cover distraction. Canada stared down at his hands again, a bit perplexed he could still see them. Combat suits were developed to work in tandem with SpellS, to take on or enhance the unique qualities of each person. So... he should be able to see through it right now. That's clearly what he'd been told should happen in the mission briefing.

Canada was stealthy anyway, SpellS or no, so he was confident he could fulfill his part of the mission even without a functioning SpellS... but it was worrisome. If his enhancement wasn't working, was his brother's?

"Is something wrong?" Germany said quietly, ever observant when on a mission. Canada shrugged, shaking his head.

"I... think maybe my SpellS isn't working?"

Germany frowned, and Iceland moved over closer to Canada. "Who did your SpellS?"

"England," Canada replied, watching the way Iceland just rolled his eyes.

"You should have requested Norway do it, he's much better." Germany cleared his throat.

"I have heard Egypt is fairly reliable, though he may attempt to sell you some PoTs..."

Iceland snorted. "Norway is the best."

Canada smirked. "You're not just saying that because he's your big brother?"

Iceland blushed, scowling to hide how flustered he got over the subject and moving away. As amused as Canada was, it didn't stop his mind from returning to the matter at hand. "I'll just have to make do as I am then..." There was no way he could head back to their base ship now.

The signal that the other team had commenced their attack played through their earpieces, and Canada grabbed his own gun and prepared to move out...

... only to stare in shock at the utterly crushed gun pieces falling from his hand. He blinked, mind stunned for just a moment before realization struck like an angry snake.

"Oh god... he gave us the wrong ones..."

~1~1~1~1~1~1~

"Charge!" America let out a whooping holler at the command. He raced forward, gun drawn and already firing at the aliens who rushed out to meet them like furious ants. It was time to rock, it was time to prove just how amazing he was! He knew he'd really have to be at the top of his game today, considering both Prussia and Denmark were on the assault team, too. Man, those guys gave America a run for his money when it came to kicking ass _and_ talking trash. Not that America was a big trash talker (it wasn't heroic), but you needed catchphrases and stuff, ya know?

"Kesesese, try not to fall behind flyboy!" Prussia taunted him over his earpiece and America focused, gunning down as many aliens as he could. More laughter erupted over the line, this time from Denmark.

"This ain't fightin' in a plane, try not to get killed! Just sit back and let me take care of all this!" The gunfire sounding out in chaotic bursts couldn't drown out that insult match that broke out between Denmark and Prussia, saving America from participating. He'd just be totally heroic while they squabbled.

"Q'iet!" Sweden's voice shot out at last, anger conveyed even through the distortion. America snickered and holstered his gun over his shoulder. Now that the aliens were getting into close combat range it was time to try out that enhancement! He cracked his knuckles and picked out his target, running right at it to tackle it. He got lucky somehow, the creature didn't even try to brace for the attack!

... but it didn't fall, either. No, America blinked, utterly bewildered (and a little bit sore), as he essentially bounced off the thing. The alien paused, turning its head as if equally confused, though more in a 'what the heck hit me?' sort of way. Even though America was on the ground _right next to him_, even though the alien turned all 29 of its eyes _right on America_, the thing never attacked. It just shook the situation off and headed back into the fray like nothing happened.

America gaped, slack jawed. _'Huh?'_ His sinking suspicion of what had just happened only intensified when, suddenly, he heard Denmark shouting for him over the line. "America, you ok? We lost visual contact on you... what's goin' on?"

America didn't answer, switching his comm to a private channel with his brother. _'Oh shit, Canada better be ok!'_

~1~1~1~1~1~1~

Canada was 'ok'... but he sure as heck wasn't happy! His elite stealth training aside, it was really obvious right about now why they'd decided to give him that invisibility SpellS. These aliens were _good_ at tracking, and though the others were doing alright Canada was struggling as the only one with a broken enhancement. Well no, not _broken_... just the wrong one! One not suited for this mission! Everything just got that much better when his brother's whining voice stabbed into his ear.

"Canaaaadaaaaaa! You have my super strength!"

Canada ducked behind some cover, eyes flicking about for some way to escape. The others on the team were going to have to collect the data without him, as it was Canada wasn't sure how he'd safely get back to the ship. The fact that he'd crushed his gun didn't help either.

"Yeah, I noticed, eh? How's it being invisible?"

"It suuuucks! I hate this! I'm not even strong enough to knock aliens over or do anything cool, and now no one is gonna have an amazing hero story to tell about me!" There was a pause, the sound of America firing his gun, before he spoke again. "You're ok, right bro? They haven't spotted you have they?"

Rolling his eyes, Canada darted for some new cover before answering. "Oh yeah, completely fine. I'll just carry this table around with me like a shield, they'll never know someone's behind it."

"Oooh, smart," America replied, maybe a little too honestly, and Canada didn't know if he wanted to laugh or go on a rant. Whatever he felt, he had to remind himself that this wasn't his brother's fault.

"Ya need a hero to come get ya outta there? I told Sweden what was up over here... I can gun stuff and all but I'm a pretty crappy distraction right now..."

Canada was about to agree when another thought hit him. "Actually... I have a better idea..."

"Does it involve robots?"

"... sure..."

"... it doesn't, does it?"

"No, now get to my location!"

~1~1~1~1~1~1~

The mission, amazingly, was a success. Tired and worn out, America and Canada sat back in their seats on the transport ship, grinning at the words of praise and congratulations they were getting. They'd managed to team up to not only collect the data Canada was supposed to, but they'd bailed a couple members of the stealth team out of a very tight spot. Working together, the two had made the most of their mixed up SpellS situation.

It wasn't as though each couldn't figure out how to capitalize on their swapped enhancements. They were both clever guys (yes, America included there), and they'd naturally come up with some ideas of their own. However, the extensive training each had received allowed them to offer in depth tips and techniques that were invaluable. With Canada's coaching America had managed to move with effective subtlety, and with America's encouragement Canada had harnessed that inner fire to be an effective attacking distraction.

Blinking and stretching lazily, however, America turned his head to look at his brother. "We're so getting these SpellS swapped when we get back."

Canada smiled slightly, looking off to the side almost shyly. "I dunno... I maybe like having this strength... maybe I'll keep it."

If he hadn't been strapped in America would have shot out of his seat in outrage. As it stood, he just jerked against the restraints, cutting off his own speech for a moment. "Dude, no way! It doesn't suit you at all!"

Canada tried to hide the smirk that wanted to hit his lips, ducking his head passively instead. "You mean... you're no good at being invisible..."

"Hey!" America instinctively hated being insulted about anything... though the lack of fire in his voice showed he was more proud about the 'slight' than hurt. "I could out invisible you any day!"

Canada snickered. "It's not a verb America."

America sat up straighter, cocky smile on his lips. "It is if I want it to be, and don't change the subject, I totally could."

Canada shook his head. "Riiiight, which is why I always won the quiet game as a kid."

America laughed. "Pfft! Dude, Canada, that's not a game! They just made us 'play' it to shut us up! You're so gullible bro!"

Canada resisted the urge to smack his own forehead. "America, I _know_ that, that wasn't my point."

"Uh huh. Suuure bro."

"You know what I'm trying to say," Canada shook his head. Oh he wasn't actually getting frustrated, this banter between them was always sort of fun in its own way.

"Do I? I dunno... sounds to me like you didn't know you were being duped as a kid..."

"Don't sit there pretending to be dumb, America, it's too convincing."

"Hey!"

"You brought it on yourself."

Sweden and Germany both turned in their seats, and before they could even say anything Prussia's voice cut over everyone.

"Good job you two, now they're gonna make us _all_ play the quiet game!"

* * *

><p><strong>After Note:<strong>

This is what happens when I really don't want to work on _any_ of my chapter fics.

On a lighter note, however, _this_ was very fun. Stupid as heck, but possibly what I needed. This will serve as _my_ 'England messes up a spell' fic.

For those who might not know, yeah, the quiet game is essentially a contest of who can be quiet the longest, employed by tired parents. _I_ never played it, but haha.

You don't know how tough it was to contain it to a one shot. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
